Erotica
by Pagan Ianthe
Summary: George visits a club in London for a special poetry reading.


**Disclaimer:** These characters are not mine; they are the creations of JK Rowling and the property of WB, and Bloomsbury Books in the UK.  
**Disclaimer 2:** The poems are (in order)_ Untitled_, and_ XXX and Oh, Oh, Oh _by John Solomon;_ Soul Mate _by Robert W. Birch,_ The Heat of Passion _and_ Nymph _by John Solomon;_ The Tapir _by Anonymous;_ Untitled _by E.E. Cummings._  
_

_"I am Orgasm._

_Quick, Volcanic._

_Percolating, Boiling, Exploding._

_Like Steaming Hot Coffee._

_Coming."  
_  
George slumped down in his seat at one of the darkened tables set at the back of the club, and pulled his hat down further over his easily identified red hair, at the same time pushing the dark sunglasses up to hide his eyes. He hadn't quite known what to expect when he had seen the poster on the wall at the junction of Craven Street and the Strand emblazoned with 1-foot high, blood red letters announcing that Thursday was a special poetry night. He had never been one to fight his curiosity, so, for the first time since the war, he had skipped the normal family meal and, after slipping on a simple disguise, headed for Ananga Ranga.

To say that this wasn't what he had expected would probably – no, definitely – be an understatement. He picked up the steaming mug of coffee (with that added bonus of a tot of Firewhiskey) with a shaking hand and took a hearty sip. The images going through his head were not unlike the words of the poem that the petite blonde woman on the stage was reading softly, seductively into the microphone.

_"I'll sit here_

_at the edge of our bed_

_while you kneel naked before me,_

_with a long mirror behind you,_

_so I can watch you_

_do that thing you do_

_that causes my head to rush,_

_my cheeks to blush,_

_and something else to gush."  
_  
The way her tongue curled round the words made him curious about how her tongue would feel curling around his cock. He shifted in his seat, one hand going to his crotch to adjust himself. He frowned a little, there was something familiar about the woman on the stage that seemed to hold her audience captive with the erotic words and the gentle sway of her silk-clad hips.

Pausing for a moment, Luna took a sip of the coffee that Ed had kindly placed on the small table beside the mic stand and looked out beyond the low lights at the edge of the stage. With a faint smile on her lips she cleared her throat, took another sip of her strong blended coffee and then moved back to stand behind the mic, her hands caressing the stand seductively.

_"We met but once as though by chance,_

_we didn't date, or did we dance._

_We looked into each other's eyes_

_without deception or disguise."  
_  
She closed her eyes for a second and a soft sigh escaped her lips, sending a shiver down George's spine. Just the sound of her soft lust-tinged voice was enough to have him aching. When she opened her eyes again, her silver orbs met his and a spark of electricity, as powerful and terrifying as lightning, coursed between them.

_"A silent message passed between_

_your hungry heart was plainly seen._

_You saw desire I could not hide,_

_you looked at me and saw inside."  
_  
George couldn't breathe, it was as though she was talking directly to him, as though he were the only person in the audience and everything she was saying was for him alone.

"Thank you," her husky tones caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end and he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and feel her luminous skin rubbing against his.

She took a small bow; a mysterious smile gracing her full lips, then picked up her half-full cup of coffee and walked down the steps at the side of the stage, her dark earth-tone clothes blending with the smoky darkness of the club.

George continued to focus on the now empty stage. It had taken him a while, but he had finally realised why the woman on the stage was so familiar and he was more than a little shocked at the realisation that his cock was hard at the thought of taking Loony Luna Lovegood.

"Well, what are you doing here Weasley twin?" Her voice was like slowly melting butter, a whisper against his sensitive earlobe. He started in his chair and turned his head a little, his cheek brushing against her lips for a mere second before she took a step away, a small gasp escaping her.

Raising an eyebrow, as if asking her exactly the same question in return, he grinned, "Hello Luna." His voice was quiet and she had to strain to hear him, leaning forward a little, affording him a glimpse of her pale full breasts, encased in some kind of lacy corset underneath her gauzy chocolate brown shirt. He swallowed back a groan and lifted his eyes to hers. "Interesting reading you just did."

With a small enigmatic smile on her face, Luna bowed her head and met his gaze through her long sooty eyelashes. "Thank you. I find that it's so much more interesting than reading Keats or Shelley, don't you think?"

Having never been one for poetry, George couldn't really comment on the difference between the two poets she had mentioned and the stuff she had just been sensually reciting on the stage. "Can I get you another coffee?" He hooked his foot around one of the legs of the chair closest to him and edged it away from the table slightly. "Would you care to join me?"

As she slid into the chair next to his, her legs tucked underneath her on the cushioned seat, George managed to catch the eye of one of the black-clothed waiters who pretended to work in the club, when in actual fact he was probably closer to being a patron himself. "Two coffees," he mouthed, feeling as though he had actually achieved something when the waiter nodded and walked over to the coffee machine set on the far end of the bar.

"So…" For the first time in a long while, George had absolutely no idea what to say. He studied the marks on the table in front of him where someone had tried to scratch some initials into the wood with the end of a spoon, or a key or something.

"So…" Luna studied him as he studied the table and tried to ignore the awkwardness that had suddenly sprung up between them. Fate had brought George here tonight to hear her reading, and, to Luna at least, that had to mean something.

Flushed, and feeling a little infuriated at his discomfort, George almost breathed a loud sigh of relief when their coffee arrived, and for a few moments he busied himself dropping two sugar cubes into the mug and stirring the aromatic blend until the spoon no longer scraped along the china base. "Was this your first time um…reading?"

Finally, something they could talk about, Luna gulped a mouthful of her hot brew and winced as the scalding liquid burned her throat for a moment. "No. My second. I used to just come here to listen, but I like being noticed." She picked up her cup and, raising it to her lips, smiled at him over the rim. "So what brought you here?"

Shrugging for a moment, George paused and thought about how to answer, "Curiosity I guess. I saw a poster for it by the entrance to the Leaky and wanted to see what was so special about a poetry reading."

"And has it been abated?" Luna knew that he wasn't the only person who had been drawn here because of their curiosity, after all, hadn't it been that which had brought her to the Ananga Ranga almost a year ago?

"What? The curiosity?" At her nod, he continued, "to a point. I wouldn't mind finding out why it's so dark in here though." He smirked at the blush that suffused Luna's pale cheeks at his blatant proposition.

Somewhere in the darkened club someone coughed, and a small light flickered briefly on the stage before a small man wearing the clichéd black beret and tight black jumper and jeans sat down on the bar stool that had been placed in front of the microphone.

_"In the tightness of our embrace,_

_I place my hands behind your neck,_

_holding your head to my chest,_

_whispering my deepest feelings,_

_not only because I'm reeling_

_from what we're doing,_

_but because I love you_

_like I've loved no other."  
_  
The man had a voice like velvet, low and smooth, and it changed the atmosphere in the club, making it darker, deeper, more erotic. Luna shivered and tightened her hands around the mug in front of her, though her eyes were fixed on George, unblinking. George moaned quietly, imagining acting out the poem with the woman seated beside him, unable to rid his mind of the sensuous images flooding it. He shifted in his chair and then, trying not to be too obvious, hooked his foot around Luna's chair and tugged it a little closer to his own, wincing as the chair legs scraped rather loudly across the polished tiled floor.

Leaning in a little, Luna's breath skipped along his cheek as she whispered in his ear, "do you think people are staring?" With an impish grin on her face, she brushed a kiss against the skin behind his ear, causing him to shudder.

Taking a surreptitious look around the darkened club he noticed that several tables were shrouded completely in darkness, he could barely make out the other people who had, until recently, been sitting at their tables drinking and chatting. At the table just to their right the woman, who only moments before had been elegantly sipping at a frothy cappuccino, was straddling her lover, her top unbuttoned to the waist. His hands were cupping her breasts, thumbs massaging the hardened nipples as she flung her head back in wild abandon. Swallowing back a surprised gulp, George turned to study the woman now sitting so closely at his side. Her hair was falling out of the messy up-do she had probably spent just moments constructing, and her eyes were partly closed.

She was nibbling on her bottom lip and staring at the stage as though mesmerised, the hitch in her breathing as he stroked one hand over her hip and slowly moved it between her slightly open legs the only sign that she was paying little attention to the man reading the soft powerful words.

A quiet whimper escaped his lips as he rubbed at her through the double layer of her skirt and knickers, unable to ignore the dampness soaking through the material, nor the way that her hands pressed down on his, guiding him to touch her where she needed it most, urging him to touch her harder, press firmer against her clit.

_"Your skin is soft as a dove,_

_so yes, I like it, my love,_

_when you're near me, naked_

_together with me_

_in the nude,_

_when I can feel you,_

_fondle you, touching you_

_softly and firmly_

_all over."  
_  
"Please," she moaned, again biting on her lower lip as though to stop herself from begging more. "That feels…" Taking a deep breath, Luna unbuttoned her top and, taking one pearl-hard nipple between her fingers, squeezed it. "…So good!"

Leaning closer, George swallowed her next moan into his mouth, his tongue stroking her lips before tangling with hers in a battle of wills that neither really wanted to win. He had no idea what had come over him, he had never considered himself to be an exhibitionist, but here he was, so desperate to unbutton his trousers and ease the ache of his erection with a few swift hard strokes.

Luna's hips were thrusting up against his hand, and he could smell the heat of her as meaningless nonsense, a stream of guttural sounds, escaped her lips.

Unable to make sense of his own emotions, driven by the need to give Luna more uncomplicated pleasure, ignoring the fact that he knew other people could see and hear them – if they wanted – he slipped off the chair and onto the cold tiles. From here he could see the tell-tale dark patch on her skirt, could smell the musky odour of her arousal, and he wanted to taste it. He lifted her skirt, thanking whatever designer had thought up the wonder of full skirts, and with one hand tugged at the gusset of her damp knickers until the seam ripped.

_"O LITTLE cleft of coral_

_Grown about with daffodils;_

_Fountain of porphyry_

_Where the waters of Helicon gust,_

_I would drink at your waters,_

_Entwining my tongue_

_About the clitoral erubescence_

_Of your most secret passion."  
_  
The smell of her was intoxicating as he rubbed his nose for a second against her swollen clit; the sound of her soft moan music to his ears. He stuck his tongue out between his teeth and flicked it gently against her, tasting her arousal for the first time. Luna's reaction was instantaneous, she arched her back and an animalistic groan of pleasure escaped her lips. Luna felt as though she were possessed. She had never before dreamed that she would be like the other patrons of Ananga Ranga, taking pleasure in public, but here she was, with her best friend's brother, her legs spread, her knickers in tatters and sounds like those she only ever made in private.

As his tongue flicked over her distended clit again, Luna speared her fingers through his curly hair and tugged him closer, desperate for more.

_"Winding in and out_

_Draining, drawing,_

_Curving about the sardonyx mouth_

_Of the sacred urn;_

_Drinking, O delicious!_

_O thirsty devouring of viscous moon-beams,_

_Of mucilaginous starlight."  
_  
With one hand George reached down beneath the waistband of his trousers and started to stroke frantically at his erection. The combination of her uninhibited reaction to his touch and the overwhelming scent of her arousal was driving him to the point where he needed, and wanted, her more than he cared about the privacy he normally craved.

Luna was splayed out on her chair, her honey-blonde hair had completely escaped from the pins that had been holding it in place and the long wavy strands now brushed against the floor. Her full lips were parted and she was breathing heavy and fast, quiet moans punctuating every other breath.

_"I gather your two rosebuds_

_And strip their petals_

_While eating your thrice extracted honeycomb,_

_NOW_

_O falling stars. . . ._

_Bathed in your liquid loveliness_

_Anointed with your adorable essence."  
_  
She came on a cry; her whole body trembled under his hands until the moment when her orgasm flooded her veins and she stiffened, "Oh God!" As her legs tightened around his head, her feet – shod in a pair of rather heavy black boots digging into his back, her cry of pleasure was the only sound he could hear over the 'rush rush rush' of his pulse pounding in his ears.

Taking a few calming breaths, Luna brushed a hand gently across George's lips, then brought her fingers to her mouth and tasted herself on them.

He had never seen anything so erotic and inviting as this and, unable to resist, he slowly rose from his position between her legs, and leaned over her supine form, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss unlike the ones they had previously shared. His lips brushed over hers sensuously, slowly, tasting her, almost worshipping her. "It's your turn," Luna whispered against his mouth.

With a move he hadn't seen since the time he had visited a bar to watch that fake WWF wrestling that Muggles seemed to enjoy, he found himself pushed back into his chair. The fly of his trousers lowered completely, her lips fastened to the curve of his collarbone, her thighs straddling his legs, her long full skirt draped around them both. "Your turn," she murmured again as her silver-grey gaze met and held his and she sank down onto him, her heated pussy clamping around his cock until he was cross-eyed.

_"I like my body when it is with your_

_body. It is so quite new a thing._

_Muscles better and nerves more._

_I like your body. I like what it does,_

_I like its hows. I like to feel the spine_

_of your body and its bones, and the trembling_

–_firm-smooth ness and which I will_

_again and again and again_

_kiss, I like kissing this and that of you."  
_  
He could only just hear the poetry over the rushing in his head, the words blended into one perpetual sound, as he curled his hands around Luna's hips and started to guide her movements. He lifted her up and then pulled her back down until his entire length slid up into her, rocking her back and forth until he was sure he was going to explode.

Luna wrapped her arms around George's neck and sucked his lower lip between his teeth, nibbling at the sensitive flesh before covering his lips and swallowed his moaning of her name. His hands were digging into the flesh of her hips through her skirt as he pulled her even closer and guided her movements.

Dropping one hand from her hip, he slipped it between their bodies and pressed the callused tip of his thumb to her clit, causing her to start in surprise. Her movements against him, the clamping of her inner muscles around his cock sending him hurtling over the edge of the cliff with a shout.

Her nails marking his shoulders through his shirt, Luna rubbed her breasts against his chest as she sobbed his name, the sensation of his thumb rubbing against her was an overload and she shuddered around him as she came.

_"I like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz_

_of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes_

_over parting flesh. . . . And eyes big love-crumbs,_

_and possibly I like the thrill_

_of under me you so quite new."  
_  
Her cheeks flushed, Luna kissed George, her lips longingly clinging to his as they both fumbled together to slip him back into his trousers and button his fly.

To a brief spattering of applause as the final poem of the evening ended, the lights surrounding the stage went up and Luna moved back to her own chair.

The poetry readings over, all the lights in the club went up and Jerry, the club owner walked up onto the stage, "Thank you for coming, hope you enjoyed the evening."

The End


End file.
